


unfinished duet.

by badaltin



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Otabek Altin, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 18:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11995113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badaltin/pseuds/badaltin
Summary: “Then that's just how things happen. But Yura,” Otabek says, cupping the blond's jaw as if trying to stop constellations from spilling over the sides. “I won't get tired of waiting, and I won't leave you. I'll be here for as long as you'll have me.”When Yuri's tongue decides to work again, his voice is timid. Like a child's, asking for his Mama to stay.“Promise?”Otabek leans down to press his lips to Yuri's hairline. “I promise.”Yuri read somewhere that birds have hollow bones so that they can fly. He's always been full of holes, a paper snowflake cut out by a lifetime of hurts. Building up velocity for another jump, Yuri wonders if the wind will break him like a twig.





	unfinished duet.

**Author's Note:**

> HOOOOOOOOLY SHIT did that take AGES to write! _god damn._ real life got in the way and. yeah. you know how it goes.
> 
> i was absolutely **blessed** to have tumblr user [@inuleinonice](https://inuleinonice.tumblr.com/) as my artist and fucking look at this [awe-inspiring cosplay](https://inuleinonice.tumblr.com/post/164813774509/this-is-my-first-submission-for-the-yoi-shit-bang) they did for my fic! it's honestly a dream come true to have a cosplayer make something for my writing. they are so talented and i am so lucky T_T thank you!
> 
> [only did quick spot-checks so if something's funky i'm sorry]

It’s an accepted fact that Yuri is abrasive and loud and demanding and constantly on social media, even as a nineteen-year-old. He’s reticent about his personal life, though. The things that matter. He collects snippets of time for himself, scraps of paper torn and crumbled and haphazardly stuffed into his heart’s vault – but they are cherished, all the same.

 

These memories are unspeakably private, treasures unsoiled by anyone but himself. When so few good things have happened to him, what else is he to do but hide them away, safe behind a fiery barricade and an immovable deadbolt?

 

But that’s not quite true. He’s occasionally let some slip, (mostly) without injury. And there’s this… one. Of course, he’s never shared it with another living soul, but maybe… maybe it’s time for Otabek to hear it. He’s held onto it for so long, shielding it until it began glowing bright as daylight through his skin. Until his rinkmates started sending not-so-secret grins to each other and his ears burned firetruck red.

 

Until Otabek’s lingering stares turned, almost intangibly, knowing. Without judgement. Yuri can trust him. But most importantly, Yuri can trust himself to believe in him.

 

Yeah. It’s time.

 

.

 

_Yuri falls in love with Otabek in an Almaty airport. “Yura,” Otabek murmurs into Yuri’s collar. They’re clinging to each other as if invisible hands are yanking them apart; Otabek’s breath tickles the hair at Yuri’s nape. “Call me when you land.” And when he pulls back, hands holding Yuri’s shoulders, the younger’s heart is punched right through his throat. Otabek’s eyes flit about his face, memorizing it with pure, unbridled adoration. There is nothing guarded in him, no careful stoicism to smooth out the evidence of his thoughts. The corners of his honest eyes crinkle with a smile that only Yuri is allowed to see._

_There is more to say, words dangling in the pregnant air, teetering on the promise of_ something _._

_“See you soon,” Otabek finally decides. He walks backwards for a time, reluctant to let the sight of Yuri go. But eventually he turns away. And then he leaves._

_Yuri stands there. His pulse rockets in his ears and static pricks his fingers. He stands there until the hem of his hoodie is tugged down by a light yet insistent grip. A child, no older than six, gazes up in wonder at the tower of young adulthood before her. “Mister, you dropped this.” Splayed out in her unblemished palm is a flower, wilted and brown but intact._

_Yuri’s never seen anything more beautiful._

 

.

 

“What?” Yuri’s voice is thin fog rolling down a mountain.

 

“I’m so sorry, Yura.” Otabek’s words are the ocean’s begging tides. “It’s shitty of me to cancel on you and the Katsukis, but I swear I wouldn’t unless I absolutely had to. I’m sorry I can’t come.”

 

Yuri’s tongue dries up around the unswallowable mass of disappointment in his throat. Yuri anchored every minute of his summer to believing Otabek was coming to visit him in Hasetsu. He built a goddamn house out of this dream but without its foundation it’s swept out to sea. He’s stranded on a one-man fishing boat, and all he has is salt water.

 

Yuri’s eyes fill with it.

 

“O-oh,” he says. “Family first, right?” Yuri has to look away from his laptop because Beka’s face reflects Yuri’s own devastation and it hurts too much to hope that his friend feels the same. “I get it.”

 

“It’s not like that-“

 

“It’s whatever. See you in a few months, Beka.” He slams closed the laptop’s lid, but it doesn’t mask the sob he tries to latch behind his teeth.

 

Yuri is little again. There’s a crater in his chest, wearing him away like when his Mama would disappear for days at a time. He would keep watch each night, peering out the screen door from his blanket nest on the floor. Dedushka would complain about his old man bones and Yuri’s lack of sleep, but Grandpa always made them two cups of hot chocolate and joined him in late night vigil. Some nights she came back and pressed a hand to her son’s head before locking her bedroom door. On the nights in-between, Yuri lingered by the door with sagging eyelids and an empty mug until the buses stopped running. No matter what, though, Dedushka was always there to tuck him in. After he spent an entire week up late past bedtime once, Yuri stomped his foot and went to bed. He could make her wait, too.

 

But when morning came, Mama still hadn’t come home.

 

.

 

_It’s summer in Almaty and the off-season is an apple ripe for the taking. This was only Yuri’s first bite into that forbidden fruit, teeth at last puncturing the skin for its juice to dribble down his chin. The temperature is much hotter than that of St. Petersburg. But this moment’s lazy heat has Yuri stretching out in the twilight sun like a lizard basking in the last rays of sunlight._

_And then, there’s Otabek. Otabek Altin, who was inspired by Yuri's soldier eyes and battlefield determination and not his porcelain beauty. Otabek Altin, who approached Yuri after five years and asked him to be his friend. Otabek Altin with his unyielding, amber-burning resolve. Otabek Altin, who_ listens _to Yuri and_ never _fails to meet him where he is._

 

_Otabek Altin, whose lap Yuri rests his head in. Otabek Altin, whose fingernails are scraping and massaging his scalp. Otabek Altin, who’s currently weaving flowers into Yuri's hair._

_It’s paradise._

_Deft Kazakh hands come to stillness. Yuri's eyes flutter open, and silhouetted against the peach sky is Otabek marveling down at him. Yuri's breath hitches._

_“I love you,” Otabek says. “I just thought you should know that.”_

 

Oh.

 

_Yuri swallows. “Beka, I-”_

_The man above him chuckles. He reaches for Yuri's hand and presses their palms together. And tenderly squeezes. “It's okay, Yura, you don't have to say it back. Not now. Not ever.”_

_“...But what if I don't say it back? What if I never do?”_

 

.

 

Yuri read somewhere that birds have hollow bones so that they can fly. He's always been full of holes, a paper snowflake cut out by a lifetime of hurts. Maybe that's how the Russian Fairy can glide so weightless across the ice: with hollows filled with air. Otabek, steady and thoughtful and unfailing, had smoothed his hands over the tender edges Yuri trusted him to see. Otabek couldn't bring back what Yuri had lost, but his unconditional love wormed past Yuri's defenses and filled in what was missing.

 

He's lighter, now. Lighter and far more brittle than the Yuri he was before Otabek kidnapped him and reset the track his life would have taken. It’s pathetic, but Yuri can’t help it. He feels like a magician pulled a tablecloth out from beneath him and he’s the sole glass transformed into a thousand jagged shards of himself.

 

Yuri waited too long. He waited too long and Otabek finally realized that he just isn’t worth pining over. He’s fallible in his love for Yuri, just like everyone else. Yuri doesn’t blame him for reordering his priorities, for putting him second. It doesn’t change the fact that he left Yuri’s frail skeleton raw and riddled, and the gaping wound he dug out of Yuri’s chest took with it all the loving weight Otabek gave to him.   

 

 

_“Then that's just how things happen. But Yura,” Otabek says, cupping the blond's jaw as if trying to stop constellations from spilling over the sides. “I won't get tired of waiting, and I won't leave you. I'll be here for as long as you'll have me.”_

_When Yuri's tongue decides to work again, his voice is timid. Like a child's, asking for his Mama to stay._

_“Promise?”_

 

_Otabek leans down to press his lips to Yuri's hairline. “I promise.”_

 

 

Building up velocity for another jump, Yuri wonders if the wind whipping past him will break him like a twig.

 

.

 

_His fingers pick up their task again, plucking wildflowers out of the forgiving earth and shaking them clean. He picks up a tune, low and sweet in his throat. Yuri lets himself become lost in the moment, lulled to sleep by subtle Kazakh words and the sensation of his hair arranged into something more than himself._

_Yuri’s had his heart broken before. But he didn't know it could be broken by good things, too._

 

.

 

Yuri’s plane lands in St. Petersburg a week later. He’s dazed, woken from a coma to stumble through life like a ghost amongst the masses-

 

His backpack grunts as it makes contact with the floor, but he’s already in a dead sprint across the baggage claim area. It takes about .3 seconds for Yuri to leap into Otabek’s arms, but 5 straight minutes for them to hit the ground. All that Yuri knows is the pine of Otabek’s aftershave and the earthy scent of the man himself. The sudden _warmth_ , like Yuri’s been freezing to death all this time and didn’t even _realize_ until he’s wrapped up in the other man’s hearth fire. The tight solidness of his grip around Yuri’s ribs and the Russian’s own lungs constricting and expanding and _god, this man is everything._

 

Yuri doesn’t even recognize the ridiculousness that is their imitation of Baldy and Katsudon’s kiss at The Cup of China. They’re just a pile of limbs and emotions too big for their own bodies.

 

“What happened?” Yuri pants all wet and gross into the other’s jacket. “Why are you here? What about your sister-“

 

“Oh that? I lied.” Yuri cranes his neck and catches Otabek flash his teeth into a fierce, prideful grin. “I was moving into my new apartment.”

 

“Hah?!” Yuri rolls onto his side and sits up to level an incredulous glare at the man below him. “Why the fuck would you ditch me to – screw off, asshole!” Yuri makes a crude hand gesture at the scowling businessman stepping around them. “Yeah, keep walking! Now Beka, you need to-“

 

“Hey.” Otabek pushes himself up to face him. “Hey. It’s not like that.”

 

“Then what-“

 

“ _Yura._ ” Yuri’s mouth snaps shut. “Why do you think I’m in Russia? I was moving into _your apartment building._ ”

 

What?

 

“I told you Coach retired; it took convincing, but Yakov agreed to take me on as a student. Even though I’m not Russian,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.

 

Oh.

 

“Oh,” Yuri says.

 

“I… hope that’s okay? I wanted to surprise you, but… I probably should have asked first. Sorry.” Otabek’s brows furrow into uncertainty, and the way his shoulders start to cave with doubt snaps Yuri back into focus.

 

“No! I mean no, like, yes of course it’s okay! Yeah totally it’s okay! I want you here! Yeah, um.” His face flushes hotly, and Otabek’s suppressed chuckles are _not_ helping. “Shut up!”

 

Otabek pulls his hand away from his mouth. “No.” His eyes are twinkling like lights over a dark pool’s surface.

 

“Yura,” he breathes, reverent, and it’s the weight of all the years behind them.

 

The words “I love you” barely leave Yuri’s mouth before Otabek is pressing them back into his lips.

 

Again, and again, and again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos if you enjoyed; comments really do inspire writers everywhere so leave one if you can :)
> 
> find me [@badaltin](https://badaltin.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. 
> 
> thanks for reading!


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